Like a boat
by Kupo Stiltzkin
Summary: A collection of Suikoden one shots. -NEW: Suikoden V: No more Sacred Games, and that means no more Sacred Consort King for Lysmleia, either.-
1. SIV: Like a boat

**A/N: End game spoilers abound. **

**----**

**Like a Boat**

----

_Nobody knows who I really am  
I never felt this empty before  
And if I ever need someone to come along  
Who's gonna comfort me and keep me strong?_

_We're all rowing a boat of fate  
The waves keep on coming and we can't escape  
But if we ever get lost on our way  
The waves will guide you through another day_

_Nobody knows who I really am  
maybe they just don't give a damn  
But if I ever need someone to come along  
I know you'll follow me and keep me strong_

_And still, the journey goes on  
Even on tranquil days so long  
And at each new phase of the moon  
Shines upon my heart with boon_

_So we offer a prayer  
Waiting for the new day to share  
Until the brilliant blue sea  
Dries up completely_

**_Rie_****_ Fu, Like is like a boat_**

x-x-

There was a strange swooshing sound whenever Lino stepped on the wooden floor of the harbor. The moon was up and brightly shining tonight, and even though it was barely midnight, the residents of the island have long been lulled to slumber. Obel was not a big country to begin with, and the citizens didn't find anything to do to stay late in a normal night like this. The celebration of the new found country was celebrated well enough that day, and the crews and citizens alike cheered victory and partied all night long, and Lino felt like he was 20 years old younger then, though in the corner of his heart a missing sensation tugged silently.

Lino en Kuldes has his fishing rod ready in one hand and a box full of baits in the other, and was expecting a peaceful fishing night alone. Humming his favorite Obelian song, he stopped dead track to found a familiar shadow already sabotaged his favorite spot. The boy sat at the edge of the harbor with his back facing Lino and a fishing rod cast tidily on the sea, his feet dangling above the waves. The thought of going back invaded Lino's mind and he turned his pace to walk back to palace. But he never expected the wooden panels had a hard time supporting his weight, and it creaked loudly as his sandal slipped on a broken board.

The boy turned immediately at the cracking sound, and gave the King a polite smile, nodding slowly. Feeling defeated, Lino walked back to the edge of the harbor, and plopped himself next to the boy, who moved slightly. "Caught anything yet?"

The younger man smiled enigmatically at him, "I think I just caught a big one."

"When I see someone already took my favorite fishing spot, I have this evil thought of giving him a push to the ocean," Lino said, crossing his arms quietly.

The boy shrugged and laughed slightly. "I have that feeling, that's why I didn't turn around when you're singing that Obel song."

"You heard it?" Lino exclaimed, chuckling. "It's a good song, right? I love it, but Flare really hates it when I sings… even though I used to sing that as her lullaby. I guess she gets sick of it."

The boy rubbed his nose slightly, "It's a nice song."

"It's alright, you don't need to be polite," Lino shook his head. "Flare once told me I sing like a horse in heat."

At this, the boy ducked his head, and the corner of his lips tucked into somewhat a hidden smile, or a suppressed laughter.

"It's good that she's being honest, or else I might wake up every citizen in here, and I'm going to be assassinated for causing sound pollution..."

The boy burst out laughing, and Lino smiled sheepishly.

"I like that song…it sounds nostalgic." The boy answered.

"Nostalgic? Maybe your parents used to sing it to you just like I used to for Flare," _and her brother_.

"Maybe…though I don't remember anything about my parents."

"...I'm so sorry to ask you something like that…"

"It's all right, sir. Most of the Knight trainees in Razril like Keneth, Jewel and Tal are also the same as me. Maybe… that's why we got so close. We don't have anybody to depend on, and that's why we depended on each other."

As waves overlapped beneath their feet, Lino gazed to the night sky, dusted with brilliant stars. No matter how he tried to perceive his son could still be alive, the probability of him surviving was closer to naught. And at this very moment, he could be the one by his side. Though he had told the boy he supported him not in the intention of replacing his lost son, he silently wished his intention will be proved wrong.

"Commander Glen took us in without questioning anything, and then Lord Vingerhut decided me to be the servant of their family. I'm very grateful …that's why, no matter how much Snowe hates me, I could never kill him."

"Well, it's nice that you two become best friends again. I really think Snowe see your kindness through. All of us on board the ship did." Lino stated, patting the boy's back.

"Ah, I think I should tell you this. That day after we destroyed El-Eal, Colton somehow escaped from the jail. Many of our comrades wandered off after that day, but Agnes said that it could be that Helmut who used the turmoil and break Colton out," Lino said, scratching his nose.

"Helmut probably didn't want to see his father die in our hands, after what I did to Troy…he thought it's better to escape together."

Lino turned his face and tried to read the boy's expression. There was no lie in his tone and Lino caught only a sliver of guilt on his face, and the boy scratched his head awkwardly, like a child who got caught while stealing candy.

"You knew about this, and you didn't tell us?"

"Lady Elenor's mind's already occupied before the final battle, and everybody's tension might break if they find out Helmut's true façade. Besides…we couldn't really blame him. If Helmut chose life over pride, I want to think that he has given up as a soldier."

The king sighed heavily and reached backwards with his arms supporting his weight. "I'm glad that he didn't betray us while he's in the army."

For a minute, only the sound of waves crashing the shore filled the night, and Lino opened his mouth to tell him to go to bed, but the boy beat him to it.

"I'm so sorry, sir."

"For what? If it's about my fishing spot, you don't need to worry about that, I'll give you a nice push to the ocean once you're finished."

"Not for that…it's about the, um, garbs…"

Lino felt his anxiety rising. "Garbs?" The king blinked and stared at his own favorite vest and cropped pants, and it literally dawned on his mind.

The boy suddenly found his own clothes very interesting, and Lino laughed, seeing how the boy's face gradually turned to different shades of red. "I accidentally took them … but Flare's always around, and I'm afraid she'll get mad if she finds out, so I, uh… didn't return it."

"You know, I'm actually kind of glad you took those gaudy outfits away! I preferred these clothes anytime, but Setsu and Flare always force the garb on me. Flare's a little furious, but she'll get over it." Lino patted the boy's back, resting his arm on the boy's shoulder. "Ugetsu fished Shiramine up, Shiramine's net caught Lilan, and I fished you up… Shiramine and Ugetsu felt bad about it, but I'm very glad I did."

Batches of flowers were thrown and farewells were given to the ocean the day before the crew went back to Obel, and Setsu was one of them, bawling until he lost his voice when they finally reached the island. They exchanged awkward looks, and the boy looked up to see the moon had curled into the cloud.

"By the way…since you can't sleep, how about I tell you a story again?"

But the boy shook his head gently, tugging a calm smile on his lips. "In that case, let me be the one who do it. Think of it as a favor, Your Majesty."

"Okay, but please don't start with once upon a time," Lino sighed heavily, dilating his nostrils out of fake annoyance. "Flare really likes those prince and princess story, and they all have the same boring plot."

"It won't," the boy said simply, taking a deep breath. "Well, do you know that I sometimes see the memories of the former wielder of the True Rune... of Punishment?"

"Yes...What of it?" Lino answered, feeling the story might be something he won't like.

"I met her," Lino saw the boy gulped nervously and paused before continuing, "The Queen of Obel."

His eyes remained on the waves, but the king found his voice caught up in his throat, and hundreds of unanswered questions turning in his mind. In the end, what came out was, "I see...isn't she beautiful?"

It was a question he regretted.

"Yes... and I also saw her memories."

The next fifteen minutes turned to be the longest and most painful in Lino's life, as the story rolled out of the boy's tongue like water flowing out of the dam, and Lino heard all of the gory details of events decades ago as if he was there all over again, how his wife unsealed the True Rune from the Ruins, and eventually, the tragedy of fifteen years past.

"In the end, she told me the strangest thing," The boy concluded.

"...What did she said?" The King asked, not realizing how he sounded too eager and impatient. He felt his ears might perk up under pressure of waiting.

The boy opened his mouth slightly, and closed it again. "The lady said... 'You've grown so much'." The younger man immediately clamped his mouth the moment he thought Lino en Kuldes was suffering a stroke. But it was too late. He could not unsay it again.

"I..., I don't understand why she said something like that. What do you think could it mean, Your Majesty?"

The Obel King sensed the question was rhetorical, but for a moment there, he felt that his gut had gone up to his throat and stopped his jaw from moving. How he wanted to throw his arms around the boy and apologizes over and over, for something he should have done years ago.

Lino didn't take a breath until a voice went booming right behind him.

"So there you are!" was Flare, making her way to the harbor with small, quick steps and woolen blankets in her hands. She skidded to a halt in front of them, circling the blanket around her father and to Hero next. "It's going to be cold. Go to bed soon." She turned to the boy. "And you too, Hero. We'll send you to Razril tomorrow morning. Tov's busy with building a new ship, Pablo's fixated on the rune cannons, so you'll have to use the smaller one."

"All right, ma'am," Lino flashed a teethy grin at her, and Flare puckered up her lips in annoyance for a fleet second...but she smiled back to her father. She ran her hand on the boy's hair, messing it thoroughly, "Kids shouldn't stay up so late."

Placing his fishing rod on one shoulder, Lino heaved himself up and turned to the younger man. "C'mon, let's go back or the lady will get mad at us."

Hero gave him a silent nod, and walked past the King, carrying his own fishing rod and the empty basket.

"I'll continue the story tomorrow," Lino said, as Hero's shoulder brushed briefly at his.

His eyes remained on the path back to the palace, and Lino saw the younger man's faint smile creased his face for a while, and he replied. "Good night, Your Majesty."

The stars twinkled mysteriously at him when Lino averted his gaze from the ocean to the heavens, and he quietly walked back to the castle, returning to his family at last.

x-x-

A/N: no beta reading on this one, so please correct me if there's mistake anywhere. Based on the hotly debated issue of Suikoden IV, the possibility of Lino en Kuldes and Hero's family connection. Latest rumors said that it's official…though I can't find a link anywhere.


	2. SV: The games we play

**Title:** The games we play  
**Game:** Suikoden V  
**Rating:** T  
**Genre:** Drama  
**Characters:** Skald Egan, Ferid, Prince  
**Warnings:** Spoilers for Ferid's connections to the Island Nations and pre-visit to Nirva Island.  
**Word Count:** 1506  
**Summary: **Ferid and his father want to remember, though admitting it might kill them. 

_ - _

_'My eldest brother ran away from home before I was born, so I wouldn't even recognize him if I saw him...if he's still alive. He's got that reckless _ _Island__ Nations blood in him, after all.' -Bernadette Egan. _

Night at Sol-Falena was never cold enough to make its dwellers snuggle up to thicker fabric.

Skald Egan was a guest at the Sun Palace, and the night was humid and warm, and he missed the thick comforters in his room. Walking along the pier, he realized he was also missing the ocean's salty scent on his skin.

_You're a man of the sea through and through, a lover of the ocean, _his wife often said_, that's why you'll never have enough love for your own family, my love. _

Though he was enamored with the sea first, he also loved her for telling him the truth.

He already missed the Lino en Kuldes, its great hulls and its gentle rocking as it coursed through the vast sea. His ancestors must have felt the same way. The Feitas might be a great river, but it didn't have the wild, untamable predictability of the ocean. The new Queen, however, shone with such radiance.

Skald almost understood the reason, though he didn't want to.

"We'll ask someone to prepare a carriage to Estrise if you insist on going back now."

More than a decade had passed since the last time Skald heard that voice, the treble of the teens was already replaced by a deeper tone, but Skald Egan could identify him anywhere. It had taken him a considerable amount of resolve not to call out during the Coronation Ceremony.

"Pardon me if I find your proposal uninteresting, whatever that might be, but the answer's _No_." Skald said gruffly, slowly turning to watch the newcomer.

"Thought you might miss your ship," the man uttered, clambering down the set of stairs, "you always do."

"My aides said that the ride from Estrise to the capital was too exhausting, so they persisted on staying for the night. So don't worry, you're stuck with me till tomorrow." Skald looked sideways, and after a moment added, "Your Majesty."

A shrug, and the younger man edged forward, ignoring the insinuated sarcasm. "There's no need to call me that when there's no one around, Admiral."

The Admiral whipped his head to younger man, staring at the new Commander's outfit glinting under the faint moonlight. "Better get used to that title. You're what now, Commander of the Queen's Knights, King of Falena?"

"Just the former, thank you."

"Now, Prince Consort Ferid – that sounds _really_ nice."

The commander smiled wryly. "Considering your disposition, I'll take that as a compliment."

"Your Majesty is too kind," the Admiral smirked. "Perhaps Your Majesty might reveal his true intentions for visiting this senile old man now?"

"Still as sharp as a tack, I see."

"Are you telling me you want to catch up on things?"

"If that's what you have in mind--"

"How could I? Years ago, my eldest son ran away from home in the middle of the night, didn't send any letters, and the last time we got in contact he said he's getting married to some girl that has the same name with a Falenan princess. Imagine my shock when I arrived here to attend the Coronation Ceremony for the Queen of Falena, and saw my runaway son walking her to the throne."

"Admiral."

"Turning away the family tradition, scurrying off to some foreign country to become some landlubber--"

"_Admiral_."

"Only to hide under his wife's skirt--"

"Father!"

A smirk started to curve on Skald's face. "Careful with what you call me, Commander. Someone might hear you."

Ferid massaged his temples, and slowly looked up at his old man. Once again, Skald and his classic mind games had proven to be victorious. Catching up meant getting reacquainted in old memories—some even dig up old wounds. "I see your job on board the Lino en Kuldes as a career path I may have overlooked. I never knew you could be so touchy about it."

"Twelve years could do many things," his father murmured, "look where you're standing now, pompous as ever. Barbaric swordsman turned to King. What a laugh."

"I'm not falling for that again," Ferid announced briskly, "It's getting late, Father, should we continue our talk somewhere in the castle?"

"I've seen enough of the Sun Palace." The Admiral paused, whipping his head again, the cloak billowing in the wind. "Does being royalty means you get bragging rights as well?"

"As far as I'm concerned, in Obel it was only involving your self into suicidal cause."

"Being royalty also means putting aside your life for the people. Got New Armes Kingdom breathing down your neck, eh? How's that for an appetizer, Prince Consort?"

If Ferid was getting irritated at his father's creativity at monikers, he didn't show it. Part of him wanted to scream, but another part comprehended that doing such act was exactly bending to Skald's will. "Yes, about Armes' Western Marine Co--"

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, as I've told you before, the answer's _No_." Skald interrupted, scrutinizing his son, looking at the shining sword hilt on his waist and the Knight's armor. "I think you heard me the first time."

Calmly, Ferid took a step forward, noting their differences in height. His old man was still sporting the impossibly spiky hair that defied gravity and proneness to obstinacy, something that he couldn't help but inherit. "Do you feel intimidated by the new commander, Admiral?"

"That wet-behind-the-ears Valya boy could never beat me in a hundred ye--Did your wife put you up to this?"

"Arshtat have nothing to do with it."

"Did she?"

"She wanted us to catch up on things, and talk—like a _real_ family should."

The Admiral almost scoffed. "She's putting words into your mouth, my boy."

Ferid almost cringed at the old nickname. "I'm the one who got this idea. I know I'm not in the position to ask anything from you--"

"You said it yourself. And the Obel Maritime Council," he imitated a swing across the throat with his fingers, "would have my head for acting on my own."

"You never cared about them before, Father. Why the sudden change of mind?"

"Call it a change of heart." There was a touch of finality in Skald's voice, and Ferid decided to leave it at that.

"Dad!"

Both men turned his head in time to see a boy running down the stairs, his silver hair whipping behind him. Halfway down, he tripped and collided on Ferid's leg.

"It's past your bed time," Ferid addressed his son, "What are you doing here?"

"But I'm not sleepy yet and there's too many people in the castle tonight and--" the young prince stopped abruptly when his eyes registered Skald's presence. Shyly dislodging himself from his father's leg, he bowed politely. "Good evening, sir."

This time, a content smile spread on Skald's worn face. "Good evening to you too, young man. And what might your name be?"

"I am Faroush Falenas, sir. It is a pleasure meeting you," he timidly replied.

"Nice to meet you too," the Admiral said, getting down on one knee to face the boy. "I'm Skald Egan of the Island Nations."

"Are you my da--father's friend?"

Ferid's grip on his son's shoulder tightened. "No. Admiral Egan here is family, Faroush."

Not a bit taken aback by Ferid's response, Skald concentrated on the boy. "Just like what your old man said. How old are you, little Prince?"

The boy held up his fingers and ticked off three of them. "I just became seven last spring, Admiral."

"I see. Do you have any brother or sister?"

"One little sister, Princess Lymsleia. Mother told me that starting from today I shall be the Prince of Falena, though I won't inherit the throne. Lym's the one who'll become Queen."

"You have no objections against that?"

"No." His tiny fists shook proudly in the air, "I'll protect Lym so she can become the best queen ever!"

For the first time in the night, Skald's laughter thundered on the pier. "You're a smart boy."

Faroush stared at him again, unblinking, and then offered him a childish grin. "I like you, Admiral."

"Oh?"

"You're nice, like Father."

Skald Egan was no stranger to compliments and sugar coated dishonesty, but at the young prince's words, he couldn't help but felt blissful. He reached out to pat the boy's head. "That's the first time anyone ever said that to me, Prince. I'll take that as a compliment."

Out of the corner of his eye, Skald caught Ferid's smirk and the exchanged look between his son and his grandson. Three could play this game, and this time, he just got bested by a seven year old at something he has been perfecting for the last decade.

He understood finally, what made his son fell in love with Falena and the Queen, with the same force that have pulled him in like the ocean.

As they left the pier, Faroush's hand on each of the men's, Skald laughed so heartily again and mussed the boy's hair. "Good thing you looked like your mother." 


	3. SV: Sliver of Gold

Title: Sliver of Gold  
Fandom: Suikoden V  
Pairings/Characters: GizelxSialeeds, Marscal, Arshtat.  
Summary: A look at Gizel Godwin and Sialeeds Falenas through their years together and years apart, as strangers, as victims of arranged marriage, as lovers, and as enemies.  
A/N: inspired by Ferrum's '_Love never dies'_

-

The boy was thin with certain girlish features, and stood a head shorter than her.

Thus, she deemed it was perfectly normal the first thing his eyes laid on was her breasts. She watched as his blush slowly crept up from his neck to his cheeks, and soon, it was harder to make out his face from his red suit. She was simply not pleased. She had expected a refined young noble man, not a bumbling teenager ogling at her bosom. The right words to absolutely shatter his half-broken poise were at the tip of her tongue, but she stood against it.

The older of the noble elbowed his son on the ribs, and decided to remind him of the situation. "Gizel? Don't you have anything to say to the Princess?"

The noble's son blinked, and broke out of his trance, and the crimson cleared out of his face, replaced with a sheet of pink. "Oh, oh, right! My deepest apologies, father. It-it was r-really nice m-meeting you, P-princess Sialeeds."

"Nice to meet you too, Sir Gizel Godwin," she smiled at the wiry boy, and as if putting an emphasis on it, placed her hand on one shapely hip and bent down, revealing another inch of her cleavage. "Do you always talk like that, or I'm simply too...intimidating?"

Gizel made an attempt to stammer, but nothing came out of him except for more blood rush to his face.

"Please forgive us, Your Majesty." Marscal Godwin's tone resounded clear in the audience room again, "My son is not always like this."

Gizel shook his head, and tried to summon a confident smile, hoping his voice would come out perfectly. "I- I am r-really sorry. I'm simply astonished by the Princess's beauty."

The young royalty gave him a sly grin. "Before or after you tried to look down my dress?"

Ah. There, the red grew back, and this time it spread even further to his ears. Fighting off the great urge to laugh, Sialeeds' giggle came out as muffled coughs.

"Sialeeds," chided her mother's voice from the throne, "Gizel might be young, but after the engagement, he will be your fiancé."

"I'm sorry, mother," she started after the last laughter fits left her, "And you just don't mean young, you mean _younger_."

Then Gizel cleared his throat, and as one, they simultaneously turned their attention to him. His blush was receding fairly quickly, though Sialeeds could still tell he's fighting an almost losing battle with his hormones.

"Indeed, I am younger then you, Your Highness. I am old enough, however, to discern that age have little to do with wisdom or maturity."

She raised her eyebrows and gave him a challenging stare. "You talk the talk, but can you walk the walk?"

The edge of Gizel's lips curved up slightly. "Please let me prove it to you when the time comes. I'm glad to see that Your Highness is looking forward for our engagement as well."

On her first look at Gizel Godwin, she wasn't sure if she's facing another tedious noble farce, or the most entertaining thing in her life. Now Sialeeds was convinced it was the latter.

"We'll see about that, sir Gizel."

She was fifteen and he was thirteen. She's of royalty, and he's of nobility, but somehow she knew this tale—their tale would turn out to be an interesting one.

---

Once, Gizel made a visit to the Royal quarters at the crack of dawn, and Her Royal Highness made sure he would never visit at such blasted hours again. On her next trip to Stormfist, Gizel exacted his revenge by introducing her to the four legged and scaly creatures of Western woods.

"If you're that scared of them, Your Highness, I suggested that you should never take your vacation to the Grasslands. The Lizard clan dwells there, and their hostility precedes them."

Their scaly companion had left towards the bushes with its tail swishing between it legs, and Sialeeds felt her nose scrunching at the dust inside the hut. And more at Gizel's endless sniggering—it started to get on her nerves.

She punched his arm, hard and making sure to leave a bruise, mentally noting to steer clear of any travel suggestions that would end her at the Grasslands. "Who cares about the Lizard clan? All I care is that if you ever bring another stupid lizard up my face again, I promise you'll regret every ounce of it."

Gizel's chuckle finally subdued after her tenth glare that promised him the 13th circle of hell.

In his room, he served her Marscal's best Kanakan wine in coffee cups, clinking their cups together before proposing a toast. "To you, Your Higness."

He had hit the growth spurt earlier that year, and Sialeeds was half proud and half irritated that she _has_ to look up to see his face now. "To you," she muttered finally, "and to _us_."

Much to her delight, the boy still blinked repeatedly, and stared agape at her. It took him a while to regain his voice, but she saw the sentiment behind it all too clear. "To us."

Then she found out she was sharing the equal smile with her fiancé.

She was sixteen and he was fourteen. Their story had just started, but she was never so sure that she treasured it more than anything in the world.

---

Unlike her, Arshtat was a romantic at core. Her childhood was filled with tales of happily ended princes and princesses, and even after one Sacred Games and two offspring later, Arshtat was still the lover of hard-core romance.

She wanted nothing more than Ferid to sweep her off her feet and took off to some unknown corner of the earth, Sialeeds realized this and had heard from her sister herself, but the situation had changed. Years ago, the plan still seemed reasonable, but since their mother's passing, Arshtat has chosen to dwell in their late queen's chamber.

Ferid was not too fond of the idea of his wife soon-to-be Queen, but he had sighed and told the others he had signed himself up to it. Some thinks that he might make the mightiest Commander of the Queen's Knight ever, but most expected him to screw up.

Weeks after Queen Falzrahm's funeral, Sialeeds came knocking at the queen's chamber.

Arshtat's smile greeted her as she opened the door, and she motioned the chair right in front of her desk. "I'm sorry for summoning you so suddenly, Sialeeds."

She refused her sister's offer and kept standing in front of the desk.

"I'd like to inform you that after the mourning period for Mothers ends, my coronation ceremony will take place. We've invited the neighboring countries, but our forces at Sable had informed that the New Armes Kingdom seems to be... taking a different approach to the invitation."

Sialeeds's eyebrow raised a notch. "Are they bearing their teeth to a country that was still recuperating from the loss of their leader?"

"One might say they have ill intentions with the amount of soldiers and mercenaries that were being prepared," Arshtat added. "It will be a difficult and long battle should we choose to fight."

"Ah."

There was a cautious edge on the corner of Arshtat's lips, as if afraid to venture a forbidden zone. Her sister glanced at her, and Sialeeds noticed the change of her tone. "What do you think about Gizel, Sialeeds?"

"He's an interesting boy."

"That's nice." Arshtat concluded. "Are you interested in him?"

"Depends on why you ask, dear sister."

"_Sialeeds._" Her sister said, and it didn't shock her as much, the quality of the tone their mother once loved to abuse.

"He's an adorable and sweet boy."

"Do you like him, that Godwin boy?"

She blinked at her, finally knowing the direction their conversation was heading. "I think I don't need to tell you that our engagement is _arranged _by mother and Lord Godwin."

"Yes, but do you love him?"

Sialeeds crossed her arms, and stared back at her elder sister. Unlike the previous queens, Arshtat was married to a man that didn't see her as another way to the crown. She, of course, would never understand Sialeeds' stance. But somehow, she was sure her sister had prepared only bad news.

"On my way here, I met cousin Haswar. She had told me of your proposition, sister."

Arshtat's earrings chimed slowly along with the toss of her head. It was barely half a year, but already the invisible crown's weight was showing on her face. Sialeeds loved her sister dearly, and she comprehended well that sometimes love needed expression. Love needed to sacrifice, even if it the victim was another love.

"Which I gladly accept, of course." Sialeeds continued, forcing a smile to her face, and much to her dismay, Arshtat saw right through it. "We've promised that all those terrible happenings in the past will never happen again. Once I give you my word, I won't take it lightly."

The older woman's sad smile fell, and she reached out for Sialeeds, pulling her into an embrace. "I'm so sorry, Sialeeds..."

"Please don't be. No more apologies, Arshtat." She took the offered arms, returning the hug to reassure the future queen and herself.

They stayed there as Arshtat caressed her equally silver strands, and finally broke off when Sialeeds gently pushed her sister. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get going."

Arshtat held her at arms' length, studying her features. "And about Gizel--"

She took a cautious step back, reaching for the door. "Don't worry about Gizel." The walls seemed to be closing in, suffocating her slowly, and she swung the door open. "He means nothing to me."

What greeted her outside the Queen's office silenced her immediately.

_Of all the stupid places_, she thought wildly, eyeing Marscal and his son, giving her equally shocked stares. Especially Gizel. She had never imagined that he was capable of such dark expressions.

But they parted away to give her way back to the audience chamber, and as she brushed past, Gizel's plastic smile was already fixed on his face. He knew all too well how she loathed the smirk with a passion. "Greetings, Lord Godwin. Gizel."

He bowed at her, his right hand clasped tightly on his chest, as if trying to hold apart his breaking pride. "Your Highness."

She was seventeen and he was fifteen. Once, they had shared all hopes and dreams and secrets and treasured each other. Stories like that were bound to have a perfect ending, she had been told constantly. As she walked off, the soft tap-tap of her shoes on the castle's ceramic floor, leaving behind her past and future, she even didn't know where the ridiculous idea dawned from.

---

She didn't know what troubled her more, being back at her room at Sun Palace under the occupancy of the Godwin, her niece thinking she's worse than a Creeper, or her nephew's final look before she left.

_It better be for good_, she told herself again, flicking back her blond bangs. _And it's for their own good too._

It would take time, but they would understand one day. She couldn't and didn't have the time to explain, never ever the detailed type, leave it to Lucretia. As much as she hated that female tactician, Lucretia's probably the only one who already grasped the whole idea.

She didn't pray much, but for once, she clasped her hands tightly, instead of asking for forgiveness or understanding, she hoped for Lyon's survival.

"I take it you're having second thoughts."

The baritone voice made her spin around, and she mentally wince. Years of training a false smile for countless visitors and dull nobles was finally giving her the ups now. "Is that supposed to be an insult? I don't take my words back, _Commander_. I thought you knew me better than that."

He dismissed the maid and simply smiled at her, the picture perfect of secrecy and arrogance. "I must beg for your forgiveness, Your Highness. Because it would sadden me to let you go after you're finally back."

"Let me go as in Dolph _taking care_ of me?" She leisurely raised one hand to smooth back her bangs. "I see your choice in bodyguards has only worsened since our last meeting. What on earth are you and your father thinking?"

"Childerich might have some setbacks, but his fighting aptitudes are unquestionable."

He stepped forward, and much to her surprise, she didn't back away either. Instead, her lips formed. "You're a married man, Gizel. The people in the court might question your decision to visit your former fiancé's room without your wife's company."

"Her Majesty is resting in her room. Even as her husband, it would simply be too rude for me to disturb her rest." He looked up, and stared into her eyes. "And she wouldn't mind the least."

It was true, and they both knew it.

"People will talk." She let him take another step forward, and felt her common sense screaming at her to back away.

He was reaching out for her face now, pushing her bangs away from her eyes. "Let them."

Then his lip was upon hers, and she felt herself reciprocating, kissing him back with the passion she herself just discovered.

She was twenty five and swore to never marry; he was twenty three and married to the queen.

She let him and let herself be driven by lust—because she knew this is the first and only time, because this would also be their last time.

"What are you thinking, Sialeeds?"

"If I die—will you cry for me?"

"I won't."

She laughed, feeling his bare chest brushing against her bare back, and Gizel tightened his grip around her waist, burying his face into her hair.

"Yeah, sure, because you'd hate to let anybody know you can get sad too."

"I'd follow you."

This time, she didn't reply, and let him whisper in her ear.

Because she knew it was true.

**_  
_**


	4. SIII: Duality

_Summary: Understanding doesn't mean forgetting, and Chris Lightfellow finds her solace in the unlikeliest person._

---

The short truce was made though no official peace treaty was signed, and she made her way to Budehuc castle again, this time as a temporary occupant. Walking among the Karayans brought a feeling of discomfort to Chris. New comrades-with-benefit, Salome had called them, though she wasn't so fond at the idea of living under the same roof with so many people that she once raged war against.

Most of the Karayan tribesmen have reached the castle earlier than her fellow Zexens, and when she reached the fountain, most of them have turned to cast her curious looks that eventually withered to a quiet disdain, feigning ignorance when the sound of her approaching footsteps became too loud to ignore. Chris was convinced she saw the sun glinted off from an unsheathed sword's surface before dismissing it, as the blade slid into the scabbard before she turned around. Countless faces that she had encountered on the battlefield, each one of them once bearing the same determination to slay her.

Chris wondered silently which one of them had really struck down Sir Galahad and Sir Pelize.

The clanking noise her armor made as she moved only attracted unneeded attention, but this was a time she was glad she had it on. However, she didn't miss the shadow that moved quickly towards the castle's gate and didn't waste any time to give pursuit. She caught up to him just by the plains outside the castle compound, and when her target didn't seem to show any intention of slowing down, Chris finally yelled, "Wait!"

The man's run stopped in an abrupt halt, but he didn't turn around to acknowledge her.

"Wait," she repeated, doubling over and fighting to catch her breath. "I want to talk to you."

He turned around, finally, and Chris suddenly found breathing difficult. Being scrutinized had always brought her uneasiness, but she stared back at him, asserting her knight's pride. "Can't such matters wait, milady? I don't exactly have the time right now."

"I believe the Harmonian army has taken more than they could chew at the moment, and I wish that you could spare just a min--"

"The pressing matter I currently have doesn't really involve the Harmonian army—it's much more sinister than them."

His right fist clenched and unclenched involuntarily, and Chris let her eyes wandered briefly at it, wondering if he was fidgeting at a loss about something that was once there. Letting a sigh escape from her lips, Chris stared up to the Karayan's face. His unsmiling face, the indiscernible look she caught in his eyes almost resembled a longing, a distinct fondness, perhaps. "You knew my father."

"Yes."

"Well enough to know who murdered him."

"…Yes."

When she spoke again, her voice was hoarse from anticipation. "Was it you?"

"I've asked you this once," Jimba of Karaya breathed, his voice thick with Grassland accent. "What would you do if the one who killed Wyatt Lightfellow was standing right before you?"

Exacting revenge right then and there had been her answer, but Chris managed to swallow the last of her hesitation. When she was sure her voice won't escape her, she endeavored a reply. "I'm not going to kill you—anymore. Your death won't bring my father back. But--" Her mind wandered momentarily to the trusted sword latched closely on her side, and suppressing the urge to grab and swing it was getting immensely difficult. "Please tell me why."

An overwhelming silence loomed over, and a sudden gush of wind rushed between them, sending Chris's bangs into disarray. When she has done wiping her irritated eyes, Jimba was smiling down at her, not unkindly, and for a second he was Jimba and not-Jimba.

But his eyes didn't falter from hers for even a second as he spoke, in a much gruffer tone, the Karayan drawl somehow have morphed into the much more proverbial Zexen. "It was the right thing to do--or should I say, for the greater good."

Jimba's face didn't morph into a somewhat regretful look—if possible, he looked even more unreadable.

In her anger and disappointment, Chris let his words sink in, and fought to keep the resentment out of her voice. "I…see."

Chris could only watch as he nodded and disappeared into the vast land before them, leaving her alone with her own thoughts.

Just then, the wind brushed her fringes against her cheeks again, and for a moment, she thought she could hear Yun's whisper, albeit faint and weakly, _Chris, Chris, please don't cry_.

---

Much later, after she trudged back to her room in Budehuc, True Water's glyph glinting on her right palm, and managing to not break down in front of her knights, Salome finally arrived to drop her with the last remaining essential information: about the secret meetings, swapped information and double identities that had been kept for years with any knowledge at her part. When she finally gained enough comprehension, she started wondering which part of him that day that was Wyatt or Jimba; it only occurred to her much later that he was both and not both. It wasn't only his appearances that changed, his very personalities had been webbed into one. He had lived the two individuals for far too long, and in his Rune-prolonged life, managed to mesh both men together, resulting into a stranger standing before her.

Chris wasn't even sure if a bit of her father was still in there; for he had even brandished his blade against her for the sake of his new family.

In a flurry of dreams, the first memory came to her: the initial meeting with the would-be Flame Champion, Geddoe's indifferent introduction, and eventually—Wyatt's first glance at Anna Lightfellow. She even experienced the overwhelming feeling of watching her new born self in her father's arms, the bliss coursing through Wyatt's very being her very own emotions as well.

Sometimes, when the worst of her dreams came—death, so much of them, of Harmonians and Grasslanders alike, all of them decimated by the fiercest blast of True Fire—she would awoken to soft knocks on her bedroom door, followed by Louis's concerned voice.

It was as if True Water wanted her to remember every last bit that it once shared with his former bearer. Chris soaked in this sudden intake of information, taking in only as much as she could. At night, she found herself standing side by side with the warriors of former Le Buque, soaring along with the buzz of their giant insect wings. Most of the time, she was sure she was walking among five decades old of memories, the accent of Six Tribes jumbled into the Fire Bringer lingo altogether, and besides her, the phantom smile of the former Flame Champion greeted. Then she was standing right in the middle of a crowded meeting room, staring back at a rather annoyed Hugo's eyes. It was a different war with different enemies that she was facing. She was reminded about this more harshly by the glyph on her right palm; and the pain that Lucia hid behind her eyes every time she stood beside her son in every meeting, trying hard not glance at her empty side, fingers fidgeting unconsciously on her tanned arms.

It wasn't like her to be so much lost in thought, and when Salome caught her pondering over the needs to hone up her Water Rune skills, he dropped her a visit and an advice to seek Tuta's aid promptly.

Her case was beyond basic medical help, Chris knew as much, and though she had masked it well during her battlefield performance, she couldn't let this problem to further undo her prowess in battle. If only she had someone to talk to—someone with profound knowledge of True Runes, and the recollections that came with it.

When Sasarai finally admitted himself to the Fire Bringer Army, Chris didn't waste her time.

"True Runes do hold the memories of their former bearers," Sasarai informed her, giving his tea a stir, watching as her expression grew weary. "They were special in the way they choose their bearers themselves. Though I've heard that this was mostly when the True Rune was parasitic in nature, I rarely heard the elemental type that bears this particular trait so strongly."

Mostly at a lost of what to say, Chris frowned into her own iced tea, and felt the moisture on the glass's surface gliding to her, almost unnoticeable. They were sitting at Mamie's bistro, and at the counter, the familiar figures of her Knights was seen. Leo was sitting in front of a glass of an uneaten, melting sherbet, and she remembered how much he adores them frozenly fresh. At the current heat, beads of sweat started to appear on the knight's forehead. Borus, on the other hand, was standing under the sun that was shining overhead, feigning an uninterested look, scrutinizing Sasarai from the corner of his eye. Their distance would provide them nothing of her conversation with the Harmonian bishop, and briefly Chris wondered about her knights' favorite pastimes.

"I've heard that the Successor of the True Water Rune was a Fire Bringer named Wyatt. Geddoe might know more."

"…He's my father."

Chris glanced up in time to see the information seeping in Sasarai's expression, and in a split second, his face was once again betraying any trace of faint curiosity.

"Of course," the bishop nodded understandingly, lacing his fingers together. "Then the answer to your problem is easy."

Blinking more to herself, Chris let herself to voice her thought out loud. "How is that easy?"

"The Rune, I believe, had detected your eagerness to know to find out more about the former bearer, and thus, aided you in the only way it know how--"

"Flooding me with its memories," she answered, looking sideways before replying under her breath.

"True. But fortunately for you, such a thing can be prevented."

The sudden rush of information has caused her a bit of fatigue, but Chris's curiosity won over. She edged closer to the table, leaning in towards the Harmonian, and somewhere from the counter, she heard Borus's distinct complain. "How? If you could tell me--"

"Have you forgotten, Lady Chris?" A first smile came to Sasarai's lips, giving his boyish look a mischievous charm, eliciting heavy grunts and protests from the counter. "Memories aren't necessarily stored in a Rune. The people around him, those who knew him best, might give your more insight on who Wyatt really was."

---

Even as she flexed the fingers of her right hand, True Water lie dormant, and it's when she's deep in sleep that it set in motion. There was a certainly strong enough reason to avoid going to the wrecked ship at the back of the castle, and whenever it concerned baths, Chris only took it necessarily. But she knew she couldn't run away forever, there were things that needs to be done and must be done. If there was anything Chris learned enough from being a knight, it was about timing. Being in a right place and a right time has promoted her to a captain. War wasn't a time for sentimentality.

The sun still shone brightly overhead, and Chris felt her inner shirt dampen with every step she took to approach the wrecked ship, for a reason that didn't concern the warm weather at all.

The length she would go for a man she barely knew didn't surprise her.

Hugo was leaning over the ship's hull; his colorful clothes a stark contrast among the white sheets that were hanging to dry, chatting animatedly to a Karayan woman before him. When his eyes caught Chris's presence, however, he leapt down from his perch, and regarded Chris with a cautious look. The Karayan woman, whose back was on Chris, followed his gaze and the smile in her face dropped in an instant.

And Chris was being reminded now, more than ever, about the last Karayan she had killed.

"Madame Luce, may I speak with you?" She let her voice trailed, and when Hugo made no effort to leave at all, added, "In private."

The current Flame Champion glanced at Luce worriedly, and eventually his eyes darted to Chris, giving her a last scrutinizing stare. Chris caught the silent warning well enough. When Luce finally nodded at him with a faint smile, Hugo walked to the opening that scarred the ship at last, disappearing into the castle.

The older woman rose to her feet, wiping her hands on the wide apron tied around her waist. There was no trace of a warrior or violence in her at all, despite the nature of Karayans that she had heard and witnessed. _Warriors, all of them, with pride that soared high like a bird. Barbarians that could behead their opponent with unmoving eyes_. The one standing before her was only a mother, who had simply lost too much.

"If you could please excuse me for not standing too close when we talk, I've always found the smell of metal this close to be… too much."

"Oh—I'm very--" Chris said uneasily, stepping back, silently intending to remove her armor here and now.

"What is it do you wish to speak to me, Lady Chris?"

"Please, just Chris will do."

She looked sideways. "Then I must request you to call me just Luce. I've never been fond of honorifics; I'm only accustomed to the word 'mother'."

Almost wincing at Luce's last word, Chris fought to keep the shame and sadness overwhelming her voice. "Your son—Lulu," she bowed down in order to bite back the tears that was stinging the corner of her eyes, focusing her stare on the ship's wooden floor. "I'm very sorry. No amount of apology will bring him back, and everything I said will sound like a poor self defense."

"I accept."

Slowly, Chris raised her head, not believing her ears.

"I accept your apology, Chris." Luce repeated, and the only Karayan that had made Chris Lightfellow tremble gave her a sad little smile that reminded her so much of her father.

The afternoon wore on as Luce pulled out two empty barrels in lieu of chairs, and Chris sat obediently beside her, listening to the stories of Lulu and his late brothers. Apparently, the boy was Luce's youngest, and long before he had darted off into the wild and walls of Vinay del Zexay, Luce had prayed and prayed to the spirits so they would keep Lulu safe, but never in her wildest fears that she thought she would bury another child.

"The Karayans are warriors since we could walk on the earth, and my Lulu died as a warrior," Luce's voice wavered as she looked up at the Knight, "I have the most gruesome image when I heard the stories of the Silver Maiden. When I saw you walking over," she shook her head weakly, "I realized that you're still…so young."

Despite Luce's best efforts to trim it down, Chris knew the Karayan had acknowledged her youth as an adolescent. Briefly, she wondered the way this woman treated her father, the doting mother to a man that had seen and experienced much more than her.

"You're twenty, I believe?"

"Ye—yes," Chris answered, failing to keep the surprise from her voice, "How—" Then it came to her mind, the talks about family over dinner, a second life Wyatt led long after he left the constraints of knighthood and the Harmonian pursuers behind. The realization finally dawned on her, and Chris finally comprehended where her father's allegiance truly lie all these years—his family.

Perhaps it was the answer that she has been seeking--but the train of questions was still invading her brain, threatening to slip off her tongue.

_How did he fit into the village? Why the name Jimba? Did you really think of him as a son? _

_Did he ever talk about me and my mother?_

Luce looked into her eyes, patient and affectionate, untied her apron and folded it on her lap. "What would you want to know first?"

_end_


	5. SI to V: Quantum Leap

_Summary: _"_I've met Jeane before. Lots of times. In lots of different places. I wonder why we keep bumping into each other..._"

-

There was this ditzy girl that Lazlo brought in, a teleporter magician, he said. Supposed to be quite good at her job, only the thing to be cautious was her sneezes and errors that might send you to God knows where.

Beneath her feet, Jeane could feel the tides that rocked the ship, the waves that will form the history, shaping the stars of destiny. In front of her, a raven, longhaired girl blinked innocently, something like recognition dawning on her. "Jeane? Is that you?"

She cocked her head to the side. "Yes?"

"Phew~! I was so worried I might end up somewhere I didn't know this time, but I'm so glad you're here. They said you're in the battle forces now! That's so cool! The last thing I remembered was Hugo saying we've defeated the evil magician and we're celebrating and eating and dancing and packing away the stuffs and I was taking a sip of a red, fruity drink--"

"I'm so sorry," Jeane said, feeling the need to cut her off. "Do I know you?" The question was genuine. So many of her shop's visitors had used this exact same pick up line, and each one of them eventually was too dazed or love-struck to do almost anything except stare and drool at her.

"Of course! I'm Viki! You know, the teleport magician? I send you anywhere you want to go with my magic?" She said hopefully.

"Have we met?"

"Oh you know, during that time with Tir Mcdohl and Riou and the last time was Hugo? You always had this shop where you display the pretty rune crystals and affix the runes on people."

"Yes, that's me." She smiled sweetly at the smaller girl, not knowing whether or not she proved to be dangerous. "But where is the exact location? City or perhaps, country?"

"It was the Toran Liberation and Dunan Unification and the Second Fire Bringer War, Jeane! How could you forget?"

"I didn't forget, my dear Viki," Jeane said patiently. "How could I forget if I never have these memories in the first place? First things first: what is the Toran?"

Somewhere in the cabin beneath them, Ted sneezed.

-

"Like wise, I told you not too bring that Rune magician along, Prince!" Lyon warned. "She's assisted Godwin before, what made you think that she won't do it again?"

The Prince smiled sheepishly, ducked his head and looked at his strategist from the corner of his eyes.

Lucretia flipped her fan and sighed. "Now Lyon, she might be—"

The walls of Ceras castle have ears, Viki concluded. The prince, Lyon and Lucretia's conversation could be heard so loudly from that Rune shop. Behind the counter, she could see the proprietor's curvy figure even from the distance away.

"Hello, Viki. It sure has been a while, you're still as cute as ever."

--Who was suddenly standing beside her, all smiles and dangerous curves and cleavage greeting her. "Aaaaaaaahhh---"

Jeane silenced her with a finger on her lips, wagging her other index finger at Viki. "Now, now, you're gonna disturb the others."

"Je-jeane! Hi! I dunno, I still felt like it was yesterday, tehehe. You're still so pretty."

"Thank you, my dear." The taller woman removed her finger, and pushed her long hair from her shoulder. "So what made you join the cause?"

"Err? Um, just temporary food and shelter, I guess. Until I find the way back…home." Viki answered, not really sure with her own replies. "What about you?"

Jeane wasn't paying attention, she was poking her staff at the pile of junk behind them, and with a swing, the piles fell and revealed Oboro and his Mr. Mouse.

"Heard enough, Mr. Detective?" Jeane smiled dangerously at him. "You can go back and tell your client or in your case, Lucretia, that if the Prince trusted me, I will serve him greatly during his war. Hussy or not, he will have no regrets."

Oboro dusted his pants and shirt, stood up and grinned. "Of course."

Viki was pretty sure she actually heard him gulping.

-

Scarlet Moon Empire's weather has been accommodating enough to wear an even skimpier outfit.

They even have a launderer this time around, and her shop was so conveniently located upstairs. Her role this time was minor, and the boy Leknaat had sent over for help has very dangerous eyes and a keen observation. However, Jeane caught sight of that raven long hair when she stepped into the basement, saw the largish mirror beside Viki, who was busy reciting teleportation spells, as if she has never done this a thousand times before.

"We meet again, Viki."

The teleporter blinked, once, twice and thrice at her. When no other responses came, aside from 'huh?', Jeane tried to refresh her memory. "It's me, Jeane. The rune mistress, remember?"

"Oh, oh, right! Hello, I'm Viki, nice to meet you!" she said, extending both her hands and shook Jeane's energetically.

"Sure, nice to meet you again."

The smile didn't left Viki's face. "… have we met? Oh right, when I went upstairs to see Mcdohl and buy some things, I think I might have seen you!"

This time, it was Jeane's turn to slap her forehead.

-

"How long has it been, Sir Georg?"

"Twelve years, I think."

"I think it was ten or thirteen, but whatever you decide." Lorelai said from behind them.

Killey cut in. "Ever since Falena."

Georg Prime eyed the treasure hunters, feeling the years settling between them. "We meet again."

Retso wiped his nose and sniffled. "If-if Shun Min was here, she would have been happy to meet all of you. But I lost to Hai Yo and--"

"Now, now Retso, she died for a cause and we better honor her memories. I'm sure she's watching us from somewhere and have this big, sweet smile on her face."

Lorelai sniggered. "Seems like the years had turned Deathblow Georg into such a softie."

"So scary now with the scythe, Lorelai?" Georg teased. "You used to be such a cute dominatrix with that whip and saying big words of treasure hunting even when you're barely fourteen."

"I was fifteen at the time, thank you very much," she bristled. "Have you guys seen that…you know, at the store? The Rune shop's owner?"

"The Rune Mistress," Killed volunteered.

"Hasn't changed a bit," Retso said.

"Still such a hot beauty," Georg muttered.

"Why, thank you, Sir Georg." A lilting, husky voice said from behind them. "Now, to have a visit from old comrades would have been nice. But I see no one have volunteered, for the special exception of dear old Viki here."

The former members of Dawn army gulped involuntarily, turning around to look at the newcomer. Behind Jeane, a round, raven haired head bobbed to the side, revealing their teleporter. "Hi! It's Killey and Lorelai!"

"Ugh, not you." Lorelai gritted her teeth. "I've had enough of your bad spells for a lifetime."

Killey blinked at her and stepped backward.

"Hello, Viki." Georg greeted.

The teleporter blinked, once, twice and thrice at the former Queen's Knight. "Huh?"

"It's me, Georg. Georg Prime? We met at Falena? And this is Retso, our former chef?"

"Huh?"

Jeane turned to look at him. "I could explain the memory lapse to you, but I'm pretty sure you wouldn't believe me."

"Ha. Ha. HA."

"I'm SO not surprised," Lorelai commented.

-

Small(er) Viki narrowed her eyes at the silver haired woman that was walking towards them, the big(ger) Viki and herself, all smiles and skimpy sheer…clothes. Dress. Whatever.

_This is like living a nightmare_, she thought, watching as Jeane sat herself next to her, pushing the wavy silver hair out of her shoulder. That blond Harmonian spy was even having this fake memory relapse when they met, but Viki could see the fear and caution swirling beneath his friendly facet, a dog fleeing with his tail between his legs. Deny all communications and sever all ties for self-preservation.

"I presume this explains many things," the rune mistress started, fingering her staff, watching Futch petting his white dragon, all the while stealing a look at the group of women.

"If only I have any idea what you're talking about," small Viki replied, raising her eyebrows a notch.

"You understood exactly," Jeane said, lowering her face, and Viki could see the men around them fixated their eyes somewhere beneath her neck line. "everything."

"I wish not," Viki said, "I don't know anything, and I don't want to know anything."

"You're a clever girl," Jeane concluded, rising from her seat. "I'm glad we're able to understand each other. See you later, Viki."

"I hope not," small Viki muttered under her breath.

"Bye bye, Jeane! Catch you later!" The bigger Viki waved. "Isn't it nice to make friends?"

The smaller of the two looked up to glare at the other. "Don't. Ever. Call. Her. A Friend."


	6. SIII: Mask of Illusion

Summary: _"Embracing her only one and true love, she is lonely but content." _They say your life flashed before your eyes before your untimely demise, and it was true for Sarah.

*

They say your life flashed before your eyes before your untimely demise.

To me, it did occur. Now, as I embraced my master's body against mine, feeling his warmth slipping away from my fingers. I remembered how he used to hold me like this once. I was born in a village so small that it has no name, and with power of sorcery so rare that it's unheard of. The other villagers treat me like a plague, called me 'witch' and tried their best to keep me out of their sight. I had forgotten the pebbles they hurled or the insults they spurt out when I reached the capital of Holy Harmonia. I left my hometown for a reason unknown to myself at first, clutching my fingernails to a strangers' gloved hands. But after a few months within the holy walls of Crystal Valley, I finally grasped at the idea after the priests and bishops had slipped out the facts in their idle morning chatters over cups of coffee, conveniently forgetting that I've finally aged enough to understand the meaning of 'utilize'.

My parents had sold me to the temple, in return for a few potches to feed themselves. Hungry, cold and ashamed by their own flesh and blood, I couldn't blame them – the peasants at the village have been too terrified at me that they started shunning my parents as well. They could have skin and cook me alive have I had more flesh than just bones and skin.

The priests often praised of how precious and rare my talent is, not forgetting to drop hints of how good I am for a girl that keep listening to them and fulfilled my responsibilities. Once in a while, a priest stopped by to pat my head. Sometimes, they showered me with books of lore and enchantment, and I would throw the hard covers to the walls of my room, hoping they would leave a noticeable dent on the perfect; white painted bricks and finally let me go back to my family. This time, they'd probably boil me in the fresh water taken from the spring, and had more fat to consume and survive the winter with a bit of luck.

But the books kept on coming next spring, and at summer scrolls of rune spells had practically covered my entire bed room floor. The paper screeched and ripped every time I stepped on them, because the humidity of Crystal Palace was at its peak then, and when I turned over the palms of my feet to see, runic spells were printed on them. At day light, I would rephrase spells and chanted lost incantations, and at nightfall, I shivered alone at the corner of my oversized bedroom, and sometimes pounded at the door until my fists bleed and bruised. The morning after the maid would bring over an extra roll of bandage, and breakfast big enough for two adults' portion, even though I never have the appetite to even finish a child's menu. I bawled with unanswered cries of help, knowing that I've failed my parents.

One day, I conjured the teleportation spell learned from a scroll one priest accidentally dropped on my room, and got as far as the gates of Holy Temple, leaving spells in Ancient Syndarin on accentuated granite floor in shape of my foot prints.

The priests placed an anti-teleportation seal around my door the day after the guards ushered me back to the temple with a strained ankle, and cleaned my room from the spell tomes and magic scrolls. They sealed off the only window, and I could only feel my way in the darkness by tracing my fingertips on never ending walls and an unopened doorknob, counting the days only by the amount of meal they slipped in through the small flap under the door. It could have been day when it's actually night. During that period, all sorts of imagination went through my mind, of how to get back to my mother or getting back at the priest.

My skin grew fairer each day because of the imprisonment, and I virtually believed that I'll never see the light of day anymore.

All because of I'm a 'gifted' child. I could slip through that flap and maybe got farther than the gate this time.

Maybe I can bite my wrists and let the blood stain the wall, leaving a spell that would activate the moment somebody opened the door to clean up my body.

Or maybe not.

When I've finally lost count of the meals, _he_ came. The man emerged from the door that haven't been opened for weeks that the smallest creak it made bring tears of pain to my eyes, and stepped out of the blinding light. The first thing I saw when he crouched down was a hand, gloved in brown leather that smelled like the mixture of forest pine and mountain breeze. It almost smelled like my mother.

The first time I laid my eyes on him I have no idea who he was, my sight was temporarily lost by sudden exposure to light after a long period of darkness, and all I could do was stare in his green eyes that were convincing me to believe in him. He didn't smile, but his gloved fingers went to wipe away the trace of tears on my cheek. I didn't make an attempt to reach him or ask who he is. _Hope_, when he held his other hand out. _Pity_, as he set his eyes on my ragged dress and shivering body. _Trust_, as he gently held my hand and pulled me to an embrace, holding my wilted body against him. My voice was gone from the endless wailing, and my legs were failing to support my limbs. But I pressed my cheek on his shoulder, as he promised me that he'll bring me out of here.

I could see the walls of Crystal palace slowly hazing, as I had my arms around his neck and felt his arms on my back and knees. Not gripping, and he held me like a glass statue with fear of breaking my bones.

As I saw the sun setting on the edge of Magician's island, I realized I was trembling with fear and excitement. Can I trust him? Then I felt the stranger's warm hand on mine. I looked up to glance at him. No trace of smile could be found in his face, but his green eyes told me only one thing.

I'm _not_ alone anymore.

As I had wished the moment would be forever, with the sunset's orange light framing his face and my hand in his, I made a promise to myself.

_I would never fail you._

----

There were times I went up his bed at nights when I felt lonely, and I nestled my head on his chest, feeling his heart close to mine as he pulled the blanket around us. There are times when he read me the bedtime stories on wars he attended and participated, where heroes fought and abandoned the lives of their beloved, and disappeared without a trace after a triumphant victory. Heroes written in old books and became the people's role model when they were just fighting for their own beliefs and barely seventeen when the war's finally over.

The heroic tales of Tir Mcdohl and Genkaku's son in their epic wars were my bedtime stories.

When Master Leknaat made Master Luc the guardian of Stone Tablet of Promise, he watched with indifferent eyes how the leaders lost their beloveds through the war themselves lead. How the shine in their eyes that so many people admired dimmed when Death claimed the lives of families and friends over, and the True Runes kept them from mortality and happiness itself.

I grew taller than him when I was sixteen, and Master Leknaat joked about how master Luc should cut the portion of my meal for the day. Though I hated how I've gained my height normally, I loved how my hands would fit into his, _perfectly_. Instructions on magic he told me, while I pretended to listen and factually were taking the opportunity to glance up on his face. Making mistakes quite often so I could take the liberty of his guiding hands on mine.

But I despised the fact of how I couldn't climb up his bed anymore when darkness closed into my vision and I found myself drifting to retrace the stain of blood on Crystal Palace's white, murky walls. Teleportation spells in ancient Harmonian on the palms of my feet.

Devoting myself to the man, I didn't see him as the father figure I always saw him. Times I spent listening to his endless talks of True Runes, Immortality and Lost Heroes. His right hand would always ball into a fist at times like this, and I would held out mine, tracing the leather before squeezing his hand lightly. Master Leknaat told me what was buried beneath the brown gloves in my seventeenth spring, and I didn't need to search through the books of ancient Runes to found out. She also told me, that a boy once carried the same Star as Master Luc and lived a cursed life for centuries from a True Rune's curse, and in the end lost his life to the Rune itself. That boy questioned Fate's path all his life, and he never found the answer as he affixed the cursed True Rune to the only person he would consider a friend for hundreds of years.

_Fate is unchangeable_, the boy's best friend said to the grave of the father that he killed with his own hands.

*

"Do you know what he's trying to do?"

Master Leknaat's voice resonated hollowly inside her private chamber; her hood was pulled back today, revealing long hair that almost reached the ground. Even without any intricacies that most women would wear, she was beautiful. I looked at her eyes, eternally unseeing but saw more than anyone else, and answered. "I need to be with him."

"Sarah. You knew what he's trying to accomplish is impossible."

"...Why did you rescue Luc from the Crystal Valley, Master Leknaat?"

"Because I _pitied_ him and couldn't bear to see him die. And before long, I kept him here and loved him as an apprentice. As a _son_. He's family now, even though he doesn't want or need such bonds to burden him."

"For that very same reason, I will follow him because I can't bear to see him failing by himself. Because I can't just do nothing and watch him slowly dying from the inside, and because he's also a family member that I love." I took the old mask from her desk, one that Master Luc had played with as a child and later became mine. I bowed politely at her, knowing it might be the last time we'll ever meet. "Thank you for everything you've done for me—for us, Master Leknaat. I deeply apologize it has to end this way."

"I'm afraid your love isn't the same one that transpires from him, Sarah." I heard Master Leknaat muttering before I left. Her voice was strangely grief-stricken, and unknowingly, a tear rolled down my cheek.

And that's when I found out.

*

We met with Albert Silverberg first. On our initial meeting, Master Luc failed to introduce us to each other. When he held out one hand in a polite gesture at me and I ignored it, he simply pulled it back without a trace of shame or resentment.

"I see that you're Luc's apprentice through and through," he concluded, casting me an unidentified look.

It wasn't a compliment, and none of my future meetings with him ended well. But Albert was a professional that kept his job and his personal feelings apart. Although I decided I disliked him since that day, but as it turned out, I was completely wrong.

Because our next meeting was with Yuber.

"Do you ever think he's going to notice?"

Even with all the dark, heavy armor equipped, Yuber moved soundlessly, and often kept a nasty habit of suddenly appearing right behind me, cold air breathing down my neck. He was clearly annoyed that I showed no hint of being surprised, and inched his face even closer. He knew right from the start that I preferred a private space that he happily intruded most of the time.

"Whatever are you talking about?" I kept my eyes on the book that I found from Albert's private library, and stubbornly refused to look in his direction.

"Don't play smart with me, girlie. I'm getting really, really bored because we're keeping low and trying to not get any unnecessary attention, and you're the closest thing to entertainment that I get."

"Why don't you try to impale yourself on your own sword? That always works wonders to erase boredom, Yuber."

"Ahh, such a sharp tongue…do you also get that nasty when you're in Luc's bed? But noo, I guess not, not with the dreamy eyes and longing look and the sultry, sweet voice that called 'Master Luc, Master Luc'…I bet you're a very submissive lay."

I slammed the book close and got up to my feet, abruptly leaving him in that tent. Luckily Yuber didn't give chase, and I entered the next tent with my heart hammering and my fists shaking, face burning with anger and resentment.

"Sarah? Are you all right?"

My Master's voice came from behind the desk, and slowly his face emerged from the tent's corner, holding a specter of floating fire on his gloved hand. I quickly shook my head, and he released a breath. His face looked relived for a moment.

"Please watch over yourself, Sarah. Remember, you're the only one I can count on."

I have heard his kind words over the years—each afflicted with worry, scolding, tutoring and sometimes affection. Tonight, I wonder which one was it. But it didn't matter to me then, so why did it matter now?

"It will all be over soon." He continued with a dark look in his eyes, and my breath caught in my lungs.

"Yes, Master Luc," I answered, and every syllable was recited like a spell incantation in my mouth, "You can always count on me."

*

The ground beneath me shook with the might of True Earth's strongest spell.

My eyes were beginning to blur, but I could feel his presence on the temple's floor, stripped of his powers, his life beginning to fade away.

As I placed him on my laps, he had never felt so small. "You used to do this to me."

"I used to read you stories," he let out a weak, stifled chuckle. "Am I the child now?"

"Fate is unchangeable, Master Luc. But I'm afraid it takes our life to find that out."

"Forgive me for it."

"I have no regrets," I muttered to him finally, feeling the darkness closing in, and every event in my life passed in a blur, each of my memories filled with his ever existing presence that molded me into the way I am. "To be by your side is everything that I wished for."

There were probably a million emotions swirling in my master's facet currently, but I couldn't see any of them, and his gratefulness, _not_ his words of undying love were the last thing that I heard.

And it was enough for me.


	7. S Tierkreis: Reasons for madness

Summary: Not everything can go as planned, but Asad will never know until he tries. (Suikoden Tierkreis)

*

"I never thought the mating ritual of humans could be this entertaining."

"Mating ritual? What are you talking about? Speaking of which, I wonder how it goes in the Roar tribe."

"Usually the men will bring over the meat from their hunting and present it to the women – that's the customary way. I recently saw Lord Diulf tore off a chunk of meat from a roasted Pekklar to Servillah, and that's it."

"Th-that seemed quite peculiar. But whatever did you say about this human's mating ritual?"

"So it was okay for a human man to bring the woman food he didn't hunt or procure by himself. But Wustum's cooking is too hard to deny, I know that."

"--Here you go, one Herbed Raparo for the Lady Chrodechild. What are you two talking about?"

"Oh, Asad, she was just telling me about the Furious Roar's mating ritual and—where are you going, Lycia?"

"Enjoy the food. I'm leaving so the two of you can _accomplish_ the ritual."

"What ritual? …Why is she giving you a thumb up, Asad?"

"*cough* Gee, I wonder why?"

-

"She's laughing – I've never seen her laugh like that. What did he say? What did he say to her? Roberto, what did he say to her?!"

"Princess, you're standing closer to them than me. Whatever gave you the idea I might actually hear what they're talking about?"

"Sshhh! Roberto! We're currently spying on them. Try not to make any ruckus."

"Can the two of you please stop getting your hands on my ingredient cabinet? I already gave the permission to enter my kitchen, what's so hard to understand with the line 'Do NOT touch anything'?"

"Chef Wustum, please forgive our rude intrusion into your sacred haven and _please put the kitchen knives down_, but Princess Fredegund felt the need to spy on Princess Chrodechild's date with Asad and prevent it from –"

"Roberto, quiet down! I can't hear a word they're saying. And Wustum, stop talking to us, you might reveal our location—why are you shaking your head at me?"

"Love inspires us to greatness."

"I think he considered the act of you spying on your sister's date to protect her was somehow admirable."

"Why, thank you, Wu-- my sister and Asad are leaving! Roberto, hurry, after them!"

"Ouch! P-princess, you're choking me!"

"NO running in my kitchen!"

-

"My dear Lady Chrodechild, since today you're as lovely as ever, you arrival has grace our worn down castle roof in to a magnificent open air garden. But it saddens me to think you're not here to see me, and accompanied by Asad instead. Come now, will you ditch him and go with me someplace else private so I can gaze lovingly into your so brilliant blue eyes and whisper sweet praises into your ears?"

"Actually my eyes are _green_, Icas. Be careful of what you're saying, Morrin is giving you a look."

"Morrin! Wait, wait, you misunderstand! I'm not flirting with the princess! Honest! Don't you know that I love everybody equally? I said-owowowoouch"

"And there she goes with her brother in tow. I've never seen someone perform such stunning ear-pulling technique. Maybe we should employ Morrin as our new Magician."

"Really, Asad. But I hardly doubt you'd have much trouble with your skills."

"Not that we really need any new magicians, since the Magedom was no longer…"

"…I'm sorry for what happened. But please keep in mind that when everything's over, you're welcome anytime in our Astrasia."

"Is that true, Lady Chrodechild? I'd love for that to happen."

"Of course! You've always been a dear comrade and friend to me. I'd hate to see that change."

"…"

*THUMP*

"Bosche? Bosche, are you all right? Why are you lying in the floor and clutching your mouth like that?"

"Please forgive him, Princess Chrodechild. My husband is just too overwhelmed with emotion. Come now dear, let's not interrupt the Lady's dat -- meeting."

"Haaaaa hahahahaha!!! Oh, my stomach, Lathilda, I-I can't stand it! Haaaaa hahahahahaha!!!"

-

"She said friend. _Friend_, right?"

"And Comrade. --Wait, wait, princess! Where are you going?"

"I am going back to my room. My worst fear has proven to be wrong."

"…for now."

"When the time comes, can I rely on you again, Roberto?"

"Only if Meruvis didn't beat me to it first."


	8. SV: Polyandry

Summary: Suikoden V: No more Sacred Games, and that means no more Sacred Consort King for Lysmleia, either.

*

Queen's Knight Miakis cleared her throat before knocking the large oak doors that leads to the Queen's bedroom, fighting off the urge to sigh. She waited about fifteen seconds before repeating the exact tap-tap motion on the wood's surface, eliciting an incomprehensible groan from the other side.

"Your Majesty, ready or not, I am coming in," Miakis said, turning the doors' handle, preparing herself for the worst.

The Queen has wrapped herself in the large chestnut colored blanket up to her neck, her long brown strands almost reaching the floor. Even without all her regalia, Queen Lymsleia was a stunning beauty, but Miakis was holding her breath for all another different reason together.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," she greeted, before eyeing another lump that moved beside the Queen on the bed. "And good morning to you too, Sir Euram."

Euram Barows' golden head poked from inside the blanket, greeting Miakis' ominous smile with one of his own.

Lymsleia climbed down her bed and reached for the cup of tea that the maid brought to her, oblivious of her bare condition. Repressing a groan of annoyance, Miakis grabbed the robe that was scattered on the floor, and pulled it around the younger woman's shoulders.

"You have to be up early today, Your Majesty," Miakis quietly continued, ignoring the sight of Euram dressing in the other side of the bed, "The envoys from the Island Nations arrive today, and Commander Skald Egan will be leading them."

"Miakis, you think I would forget about Grandfather's arrival? He sent us letters almost every day, demanding us to welcome him ever since he's heard of the birth of my brother's first son. I think the idea of him becoming a great grandfather was overwhelming to him. That, or the fact that he has to call his seventeen year old granddaughter Your Majesty."

"I recalled he's quite informed of the latter, but as of the current state--" Miakis stared at the only man retreating from the bedroom from the corner of her eyes with a disgusted look. "would disappoint him greatly."

"What do you have against Euram, Miakis?"

"Not necessarily so, Your Majesty. Just the fact that he's been occupying your bedroom for several nights. With your consent."

"Hey! I was supposed to give birth to an heiress. How can I do that without a partner?"

"You mean _husband_," Miakis felt the need to point it out.

"It is not my fault that the great Sir Richard, oh-so-mighty-with-a-sword turns out to be unsuited to the court life," Lymsleia threw her hands up into the air, "how should I know he loves his captain more than me?"

The knight rubbed her temple, quelling an imminent migraine. "Please promise me, Your Majesty. For old Miakis here—at least choose just one to your liking."

"I shall try, but no promises."

-

"Marina came to me crying."

"Old man can't keep his mouth shut." Lymsleia softly scoffed, waving her companion off. She took a glance at the view of Feitas river glimmering in the sunset, raised the wine glass to her lips and belched delicately. "What's so good about this thing? It's bitter, stinks, and gives you great headache in the morning. No wonder Aunt Sialeeds is never a morning person."

"_Lym_," Lord Freyjadour-former commander of the Falena liberation army, leader of the rebellion, former Falenan prince, current Commander of the Queen's Knight, always her beloved elder brother-chided with the voice that meant to address the severity of the state. "I clearly remember didn't raise you to be this way."

"Stop it, brother. We both knew I was raised by the Queendom of Falena, not you."

"But why _Belcoot_? And for the love of the sun, why _Euram Barows_?"

"He did compete in my Sacred Games, and if things have gone right, he should have become my husband. Even father and mother approved at the time. While Euram worshipped the ground that I walked on."

"At the time he's not bound to his obligations as a husband and a father," Freyjadour reminded. "He has Marina and their children at home now."

"Did he? Well, he seemed to forget completely about them when I turned--"

"No details, _please_!"

"It's just a one time thing. It will never happen again."

"I'm saying it's unbecoming for a Queen to act this way. Have you ever seen Mother acting the way you do lately?"

"I will NOT be a hussy, Brother. I give you my word."

"…Queens don't go back on their words, Lym."

-

Kyle cringed as the side of the bed creaked under his weight, and looked back to see Lymsleia still in deep sleep. Faking to be in deep sleep was more appropriate, he could hear her disrupted breath, and the cringing in her eyebrows.

Really, what was he thinking? Dear little cute Lymsleia, he knew she's gonna be big someday. But never in his wildest dreams had he imagined they'd be sharing a bed, let alone did the unthinkable things that just occurred.

He couldn't undo this thing, and continued to dress in the darkness of his Queen's bedroom, fearing the lethal look in Miakis' eyes if she ever caught him tiptoeing out of the room.

Kyle refrained himself from kissing her goodnight, he knew Lymsleia didn't have enough feelings for him to want something like that, and as quiet as he could manage, slipped out of the bedroom.

What he didn't hear as he was leaving was Lymsleia quietly furling her fists and choking back her silent, angry tears on the bed.

-

"Come here and look at your niece, brother."

Freyjadour almost knocked his toes on the bed's footing; he was rushed by the euphoria, the strange feeling of being an uncle that's overwhelming his core. The babe in his sister's arms let out a small noise, and he felt himself glowing with pride. "Congratulations, Lym. She's beautiful."

"Now, if only everyone in the court would stop from asking me to give birth to more babies, I can finally sleep better at night. I was wondering what I should name her."

Freyjadour caressed the newborn's cheek, admiring the softness, the purity of it and grinned. "Shouldn't you ask the father for an opinion too? What do you think, Toma?"

Queen's Knight Toma fidgeted slightly at the mere mention of his name, and gave a small smile. "It is my duty to give the naming on Her Majesty's choice. After all, she is a Falenas."

The smile in Lymsleia's face didn't falter. "Can everyone please give me some privacy? I would like to talk with Toma."

The commander of the Queen's Knight made the last cooing noise to his niece, and kissed his sister's temple before leaving. "Go easy on him."

The sound of the closing doors felt like the unsheathing of a sword to Toma's ear.

"Don't you want to look at your child?" Lymsleia started, her free hand beckoning her knight.

"Of course, Your Majesty. Though sometimes I still wonder--"

"--if it's true? I've never been with another man ever since I chose you, Toma. You knew better."

"You mean other _men_." Toma countered, sitting next to the Queen on her bed, preparing himself for the slap that might come.

"Say that again and I'll have your title stripped and your hometown charred to dust, dear," Lymsleia said with a saccharine smile that can even melt Georg Prime's heart.

Toma placed a rough hand on top of the baby's silver head, and gave it a quick scrutinizing. "Is it just me, or she looked like your Aunt Sialeeds?"

"More like my mother, I think. Because I resembled her." She raised the baby to kiss her forehead.

"When are you making it official?"

He saw the first signs of a long sigh she prepared to release, and raised his hands in defeat. "I know, I know. NO more marriage, because the first one is a major, catastrophic disaster."

"But you know I love you," she looked at him in the eyes.

He leaned down to kiss her fully in the mouth, and to stop himself from wondering if it'd be true.


End file.
